Chapter 23.

As the man Josh dropped into the driver’s seat, clouds of seafood scent wafted from his clothes. The Cat jumped down from his back shelf perch and meowed in the man’s ear, to remind him that a hungry cat was present. Maybe Josh had brought back a morsel for the Cat? Any halfway decent patron would have.

But the man merely turned and stared at the Cat. “Unbelievable. Didn’t I leave it at the cottage?” Pushing the Cat back with one hand, he drove out of the parking lot. “Five minutes, okay? Can you just wait five minutes?”

The Cat sank onto the backseat, resigned that Josh was probably not going to feed him while he was driving. But at intervals, to keep the emergency fresh in the man’s mind, he leaned on the front seat and meowed again.

Back at the cottage, the mustache man and his little dog were in front of the TV. The Cat tried to lead Josh to the kitchen, the place to get out the cat chow and fill the Cat’s bowl. But the man slumped into the other armchair. The Cat rubbed against the man’s ankles and meowed; he sharpened his claws on the upholstery and meowed. Josh’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

Finally the man Josh said, “Well, it’s always fun to watch the Red Sox lose.” He stood up, stretched, and yawned. Then he frowned. “Shit. I almost forgot to put my stuff in the dryer.”

Rick blew a smoke ring over his dog’s head. “Doin’ laundry? Did someone complain at the kennel? ‘Hey, Josh—you stink.’” He chuckled.

The Cat followed Josh through the kitchen. Without even glancing at the cat chow cupboard, the man opened the door of the soap and water machine. “Ugh,” he said, pulling out a soggy pair of underpants. “Not much of a spin cycle.”

Meowing, the Cat dodged drops of water as Josh tossed his wet clothes into another machine. “Temp,” he muttered. “Better set it on High.”

With a screech that made the Cat leap backward, the dryer began to turn its inner wheel. The screech merged into a rhythmic whoop-whoop-whoop, but the Cat had already fled back through the cottage and into Josh’s room. He crawled under the bed, next to the leg propped up by a yellow book.

“Sheesh!” exclaimed Josh.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Rick called from the living room. “Oldest dryer on the planet.” He added, “Hey. That investment deal Ollie mentioned? Gotta jump on it. If you aren’t in . . .”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Josh’s footsteps returned through the kitchen. “Yeah, count me in.”

“I mean, you have to come up with the cash. If you’re in.”

“Well, I can start the process tomorrow, but it’ll take a few days to get the money from my retirement fund. And I need to take a look at that property first.”

“Ollie says tomorrow,” said Rick. “Not ‘a few days.’ He might know a guy that would give you a loan on the retirement.”

Josh grunted. “But tonight, I am fucking going to bed right now.”

From under the bed the Cat watched the man Josh’s feet appear in his room. The feet kicked off their sneakers, and the underside of the mattress sagged as Josh flopped onto the bed.

“Shit.” The man sighed a deep, self-pitying sigh. “I can still hear it.” Pushing himself out of the bed, he shoved the bedroom door shut. He flopped onto the bed again.

Creeping cautiously out into the room, the Cat saw Josh pull his backpack under his head. He turned it over as if searching for a softer side, finally wiggling his head into a hollow. The Cat waited for the man’s breathing to slow and deepen. Then he jumped onto the foot of the bed and curled up, one forepaw over his head to muffle the whoop-whoop-whoop.

 

The Cat dreamed that the mustache man was blowing smoke in his face. With a sneeze, he woke up.

The smoke was no dream. The air was thick with it.

The Cat leaped off the bed, toward the door.

The door was shut. Besides, the source of the smoke was on the other side. And heat pulsed against the bedroom door.

Bounding to the half-open window, the Cat tore at the screen. Useless. He hurt his claws, but not the wire.

What to do? Get help from a stronger animal—the human sprawled on the bed. With a soaring leap, the Cat shot himself off the window sill and landed hard on the man’s belly.

“Aagh!” The man Josh coughed and rocked from side to side, but he did not wake up.

Desperately the Cat cast his mind back to the days when the Girl had slept past first light. How had he awakened her? Climbing onto the man’s chest, the Cat licked his eyebrows, first one and then the other.

“Uhh.” Josh’s eyes were still closed.

With claws tucked in, the Cat rapped the side of the man’s face. He only brushed feebly at the paw.

The Cat stepped onto the man’s throat with both front paws, leaned over, and nipped the end of his nose.

“Aagh!” This time Josh did wake up, so violently that he flung both the Cat and himself onto the floor. The man crouched there, wavering. So slow. So stupid!

The Cat jumped onto the windowsill and meowed to guide the man, but he turned the other way, stumbling toward the door. He grabbed the doorknob—and instantly jerked his hand away. He stared at the light flickering around the edges of the door.

“Josh!” It was the voice of the mustache man, outside the window. His dog was yipping, too. “Fire! Get out! You there? Fire!”

Finally—finally—the man Josh lunged across the room to the window. The Cat jumped down to let him work. But instead of tearing the screen open for the Cat, Josh shoved up on the wooden frame. It moved a little, unevenly. “Stuck,” Josh muttered through a cough.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

“Shut the fuck up,” grunted Josh as he struggled to push the window up. There was a shuddering crash somewhere in the cottage.

“You gotta get out,” shouted the mustache man. “Roof’s gonna go!”

Josh stooped under the window frame and heaved. It scraped upward, scattering flakes of dried paint. Now, surely, the man would rip open the screen.

Josh tugged at a hook at the bottom of the screen. The mustache man pried at it from the outside. “Fucking rusted. Cocksucker!”

The Cat meowed. The dog yipped. And now sirens wailed in the distance.

“Watch out!” Cocking his fist, the man Josh plunged it through the screen. He scraped his arm back through the jagged wire. “Aagh! You idiot!”

At last. An escape hole for the Cat. Leaping onto the window sill, he wiggled through and dropped to the ground.

 

 

 

 

A living dog is better than a dead lion.

Ecclesiastes 9:4